


Where It's Wandered To

by wirewrappedlily



Series: Afire Love [4]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: BAMF!Q, But we love him for it, M/M, Q has skills, but really who would expect Q not to be a BAMF?, i stayed up way too late writing this, it's possible that none of them are entirely legal, not all of them are evident, which was very silly of me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-10 12:06:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2024550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wirewrappedlily/pseuds/wirewrappedlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"MI6 was compromised. We've lost all contact with every agent in the field and if whoever is causing this so wished, they could overload the powergrid enough to cause Q-Branch to, for lack of a better word, implode. Eve and Tanner've ordered everyone go to ground. But I'm not one for leaving you alone, and I'm safer with you in a lead-jacketed rainstorm than I am cozy at home in London where some bloody mad man is systematically overloading power grids successfully more direly."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All I Need Is You

Dawn caught James Bond naked across the cloud-like bed, a sheet draped artfully over his parts and his arms thrown out to hold his lover. His lover, however, wasn't there. 

The Quartermaster of MI6 had a strange and often terrifying life. There were times when James wanted nothing more than to take Q away from being Q: to restore Bastian Kelly and hide from the world that would tear them apart if given half a chance. But Q, who toppled regimes with a keystroke and broke countries before his first sip of tea, had a job to do and he loved his job nearly as much as James did. 

Q sat barefoot in the living room, playing Risk on a global scale as his lover slept far too lightly in the next room. From the comfort of his couch, Q marched armies into battle and brought peace to places that had never known it before. James had once thought that Q had been implemented to replace him: Now he knew that there was no way he could ever have kept up with Q, even on his slowest day. James could cause mayhem like breathing; but there was no way for him to ever be able to globally ruin the world's day with little more than a roll of the eyes and the click of a key. 

Q's work never stopped, James had learned. It was as if the powers above them believed that there was no man behind each line of perfect code, and it royally pissed James off when Q pushed himself to breaking, just trying to keep up. Mallory, Q had told him, had been even worse than Moneypenny and Tanner were. James took that information with the knowledge that Mallory had tried to have Q blow himself up, and his confederates would have seen James pancaked beneath a skyscraper or two. Q knew that James would be righteously unhappy that Q had been called from bed at four in the morning to solve a problem that wasn't theirs to solve, but if he could just manage to wrap it up before James woke--

"I'm going on a bloody murder spree." James growled, bare in the diffuse sunlight and hair as tousled at the close-cropped style could get. 

Q raised his hands, "No, because I just stopped a murderous rampage and I have no intention of one springing up for the next day and a half at least. Come back to bed with me and I'll make it up to you." 

The moment the words hit open air, James's phone rang, quickly followed by Q's. 

"They're calling you in." Q surmised, features all but grey, "Brilliant." 

Little more than a half-hour later, James was getting something that had no right to even call itself a debrief as Q handed him his kit, the both of them sharing in the frustration of not knowing enough information. "I'll make it a quick one." James tried, voice smooth and deep. Q snorted at him, raising an eyebrow. 

"Are you really so sick of me you're willing to jinx it that way?" 

James caught his wrist, stopping him from moving away before he could pass his hand over the tattoo lying under layers of linen; Q's mechanized heart bursting at the seams with sunlight and scribed with 007. "I," James moved Q's fingers so that they brushed over the inside of his own, the tattoo on his left ring finger a reminder to them both, "will make it a quick one to be home with you. I'll not forget you owe me a very long, naked nap." Smiling a small, playfully seductive smile, James let him go; their agreement that their relationship be kept away from prying eyes standing even though most people knew. 

"I'll be the voice in your ear." Q whispered. 

"I carry your heart with me," James replied, "I carry it in my heart." 

It took all of three days for things to go spectacularly to shit. 

James had found the heroin ring and a way in easily enough, even with blond hair and blue eyes and a certain reluctance to bed the very cunning, deadly ringleader. But within the first day, he lost contact with Q-Branch--and not, as far as he could tell, because of him.

As far as he'd known, this mission was not meant to be deep cover. He was meant to have Q's voice in his ear, and he was hardly one to do without whatever luxury given him. 

News reports of power spikes in London was strange, but it could very well be that bloody thing Jasmine had stolen Q for a week for the month before; something about energy transfer and the generation of enough electricity to kill a man through just the friction of the particles of air the device could harness. 

Hoping that his lover hadn't (again) caused a city-wide panic because he was bored, James got swept up in the mission before he could look any further. 

By the time he started to really wonder what the hell was going on at MI6; by the time the fear that had been slowly growing in his heart came to a mangling head, James was trying to run from a building set to explode--the bloody thing packed to the brim with heroin and opium, and James did not want to consider what air-dispersal issues could come from that. 

James was all-but tackled mid-stride as a haze of bullets swept over the area he'd just been inhabiting, the body small, bony, and all-too-familiar as they tumbled over the ground, away from the line of fire. 

Q was wearing all black, his pale skin smudged with oil paint to keep him out of sight of the guards that had been patrolling the parameter with guns that practically spelled out 'overkill'. He wasn't wearing his glasses; the tightness around his eyes only there because it was there whenever he went without them. 

James took all this in in the space it took to get Q off his back, flipping him on the ground, and pouring himself into a kiss, the urgency of it kicking at him as the building exploded. 

Q blinked when James let him go, looking over to the ball of fire then back to Bond, "Quite." 

Laughing despite himself, James picked them up, running on. "What the bloody hell happened? You had to come all the way out here..." James was panting, laughing still, but Q's face didn't give away any mirth as he threw himself over the front end of one of the guard's beat-out cars, hotwiring it to life almost before James managed to pull his legs in. "Q?" 

"MI6 was compromised. We've lost all contact with every agent in the field and if whoever is causing this so wished, they could overload the powergrid enough to cause Q-Branch to, for lack of a better word, implode. Eve and Tanner've ordered everyone go to ground. But I'm not one for leaving you alone, and I'm safer with you in a lead-jacketed rainstorm than I am cozy at home in London where some bloody mad man is systematically overloading power grids successfully more direly." 

"Bloody hell..." James breathed, his mind overloaded rather completely. Part of him wanted to chastise Q for simply showing up, as amusing as it'd been; another part wanted to chastise him for going anywhere if Eve ordered them to go to ground. A third part of him wanted nothing more than to get to the hotel room, unplug every bloody thing in there, and then curl up in bed with Q safe in his arms; but the forth part wanted to get on a bloody plane and go home to sort this out. James settled for going along with whatever the hell Q was doing, keeping his mouth shut as Q went the wrong way to get to James's hotel. Catching Q's fingers in a tangle of his own over the gear shift, James looked over to him, knowing above anything else that he trusted Q with everything there was. 

"Win's charging station had to be unplugged: the Swarm, too. The battery will last for five days if he stays on the ground; eight if he doesn't move too much." 

"He hid...when you were thought dead, he hid under the couch." James realized sadly. "God, this is horrible--" 

"I explained it to him when I went to unplug the charger. He knows we're coming back." Q's voice had the desperate edge of someone who needed to be told that they'd done the right thing in a bad situation. 

James squeezed his fingers gently, "We _will_ go back for him." He promised quietly. 

Q's features didn't betray his relief, but James knew that Q felt a little better; knowing that James was with him; that they'd get through anything they needed to get better. "Eve doesn't, at the moment, know that I came to find you. I'm actually completely disobeying orders, but I couldn't leave you out here, not knowing what was going on. The city's getting into something of a strop with fear. There've been four deaths so far; people with pacemakers and the like touching things they'd usually touch to go about their day. One child was hospitalized because one of the shorts sent through that quadrant managed to get a bit of exposed wire that was put stupidly close to the drainage--an improper and criminally imbecilic attempt at a garbage disposal. The child was in the other sink taking a bath." 

"Criminally idiotic parents as well, by the sounds of things." James cut in, scowling. 

"Any case, the shock was enough to change her heartbeat." James hissed at the thought, his eyes hard. "Every attempt I've made on my way here hasn't turned up what rock this bastard's hiding under. But it's methodical--almost like whoever it is is looking for something." 

"Riots?" 

"Of course. But, oddly, no looters. Electronics shops have become something akin to plague hospitals. Only the very well-trained go anywhere near them." 

"Have the government warned to get into rubberized shoes yet?" James scoffed. 

"Actually, yes. And every electrician in the city is calling up reinforcements from everywhere else. They're trying to make houses as safe as possible, and the PM's promised that from London out they'll pay for the quick-fixes." 

" _Out_?" James asked, "They expect that this will happen country-wide?" 

"They have no bloody clue what's going on. James, the only reason I know what's going on is because it's too systematic to be the mistake of an idiot." 

"This doesn't seem all that...the deathtoll is minimal, and there's no real terror." 

"What I think they're looking for is Q-Branch. We generate the most electrical usage in the country; we're tapped into two different power stations directly, and we have our own generators. It's a very tidy way to find us." 

"...Bugger." James commented tightly, the protective instinct roaring in him. He glanced to Q's profile as the man pulled up to the most ornate apartment complex in the city, then just past it enough for them to dump the car. 

"We stay here tonight. I've already retrieved your kit from the hotel, and we'll have a dinner up to us in twenty minutes from the time we get in the door." Q reported, striding around the car to take James's hand firmly. 

"They won't ask about the oil paint, the stealth clothes, or the fact that I was cut up and tumbled through the dirt." 

"No, what do you take me for? This place is silent. They won't even blink at the fact that a stolen vehicle is to be found just a few buildings away. I will have to rig CCTV to have gone down, but we're safe here for the night."

James hummed thoughtfully, "Only the night?" Q grinned at the cheek as a doorman held the door for them, bowing low. James pulled Q to him as the elevator chimed for them, the elevator operator in front of them smiling politely as James told him there was no need to ride up with them in Cantonese. Q shot him a look, but didn't protest when James dragged them into the back corner after Q had pressed the correct floor, wrapping James in his arms as James settled him against his body. "God, I've missed you." James whispered. 

Q leaned up the extra inch so that they were of a height, leaning in so that his mouth was brushing against his pulse, "I love you, James. I've missed you so much. You're the sunshine I need to keep feeling warm." James wrapped his arms lower around Q's waist, and Q buried his face in the side of James's neck, his lashes a fluttering presence against James's skin. "I spent a week wishing I could talk to you; see your face when I say something that makes you grin. I missed feeling your arms drawing me in. I missed kissing you awake and that you'd talk me into staying in bed." 

With every word, Q's mouth moved over James's skin, his teeth nipping and his tongue tracing over his skin. James allowed himself to shudder into Q, Q's arms wrapping tight around his shoulders. James eased his hand into Q's pocket, fingers curling around a card-key. "Shower first...then I might not let you out of the bed until my flight is due to leave day after tomorrow." 

Q grinned impishly through his lashes, kissing him long and deep before the doors opened, Q dragging James out of the lift into a near-sprint down the hall. Q didn't even bother to check his pockets, knowing that James had stolen the card, and he smiled when James tapped the card to the sensor of the door he stood pressed against, fingers curling into James's collar as he dragged him inside, the door flinging open behind him, only just not enough to completely unbalance him. James plunged his hands under the black fabric, growling in arousal when he felt the tight Kevlar of Q's personal body armour; something Q had acquired only after his near-miss with Mallory and a band of kidnappers. James had never found the sight of body armour more arousing than he did on Q; the slight, pale body hugged tight, his deceptively lithe arms finally showing their muscle, and the tuck of his waist only emphasized by the tight wrap of the black material. 

It was almost more arousing than seeing Q in a suit; and with his face smudged in oil paint so that he could slip past the guards as the floodlights had swept over the parameter with them, James had never more appreciated the stereotype of the spy. He knew the measures Q had taken were such that Q didn't have to pull a trigger or bloody his knife, but it was still amusing, to some strange part of Bond's internal make-up, that Q had been playing spy. 

Q tore the fingerless gloves on his hands off ruthlessly, throwing them to the plush carpet as he pushed into James's body for another hungry kiss. James knew the tight thrill of getting in and out of somewhere without a scratch, and he was more than pleased at Q's reaction. "The heroin won't...disperse in the air, will it?" James panted, mouth still pressed sloppily against Q's skin. 

"No..." Q replied distractedly, his fingers more tugging at James's buttons than actually undoing them. 

That bit of bother gone, James picked Q up by the hips, pressing him back against the wall of the foyer and sucking under his jaw, scraping his teeth over the side of his neck, hands moving to Q's jacket, tearing the zip down hard and ripping the Velcro keeping the body armour over him. Pushing blindly as he put his mouth over Q's collarbone, sucking a mark along with the tattoo, James stumbled back from the wall, walking blindly through the apartment. Q tugged on James's hair, squeezing his thighs around James's waist, wanting down to get them where they needed to go. James let him down obediently, laughing as Q grabbed his wrist and dragged him along, stumbling into the marble bathroom, tripping over his pants as he kicked them down his legs, getting them caught on his boots. 

James dropped to his knees, licking up over the underside of Q's cock, thankful he'd decided against pants as his hands went to work on the boots, sucking at the head decadently and moaning as Q's fingers dug in his hair hard. James brushed a thumb under his balls, pressing against the perineum. Q let out a faint whimper, tugging at James's hair to get him to stop, "Not like this...fuck, James. God, I need you." 

James put his mouth back on the head of Q's cock, humming lightly as he urged Q's first foot off the ground, slipping his boot and trouser leg free before easing Q back on both feet, switching feet as he gasped. James pulled off, standing up and pulling him in, "What do you want, Q?" 

Q shuddered, his breath catching as he put his hands on James's hips through the shirt, biting his lip. "I want everything." 

James pushed him into the walk-in shower, whipping his own clothing off without any regard for buttons. Q's long fingers caught at his skin, his body melting into James's as the man crowded him against cold tile, large hands sliding over his waist with a reverence that made Q feel like there was no way James could be looking at him. Q's mouth fell prey to James's happily, his hands folding around the back of James's neck, happily wrapping around the man as he picked him up, securing his legs around James's waist. 

"There is so much I want to do to you, Quartermaster. If you're up to it, that is..." 

"James, I just ran through a hail of bullets, hotwired a car, tackled you out of the way of an explosion, and I haven't seen you in a week. Add that to the fact that I let myself be transported in a metal fucking _tube_ over a hundred-thousand feet of open air, and I'd say that I'm ready for whatever you have to offer, old man." The smirk the boffin gave him made James growl, shoving them both under the spray of water; the scrapes on James's back and hands stinging slightly and the oil paint on Q's face cleared in great troughs as it ran from his mass of dark curls. James scrubbed his thumb against Q's cheek, kissing softly up his neck before nibbling at his earlobe. 

Q sighed, leaning back into the touch as James tangled his fingers in Q's hair and tightened his grip softly. He could feel Q's heart racing a mile a minute in his chest, and James worried about him. Q was nothing if not resilient, but the kind of stress he'd put his body under was not something that it necessarily should have been. Q didn't trust planes; he was fine on them so long as he was distracted enough not to think about it, but if a window was open and he could look down, he was a wreck. Flying without Bond would've been hell on his nerves; infiltrating that compound, while easy enough for James, had to have had his heart in his throat most of the time--completely cut off from watching the movement of the men over a screen from miles and miles away, with no voice in his ear that could even do that for him, and no training that could withstand the number of guards that compound had. 

James carried no doubt in his mind that Q had only found him because of the tracker implanted in the insole of his left foot, and he was somewhere between thankful and rueful that it had been pressed into use yet again; this time putting Q's life on the line in the process. 

It was not, for once, James's high that they were bringing down in the shake and cling of their bodies; it was Q's, and an abstract thought occurred; a wonder if this worry was what Q felt when James came home apparently right as rain, but wound up enough that he couldn't keep his hands to himself. 

James ran his hands over Q's smooth, nearly-unscarred skin, luxuriating in the feel of it under his palms, even as the roughness of his hands sent Q shivering into his chest. "Condoms and lube are out there..." 

"Oh? Well, then..." James purred, grinning evilly. James dropped himself to his knees, turning Q around so that he faced the tiled wall, his hands going up to brace himself as if his knees were unreliable. James spread his cheek and laved his tongue over Q's arsehole, immensely enjoying the shiver it sent through Q and the small sound of want to the point of pain. James knew his fingers would leave white lines against reddening skin, and he couldn't bring himself to bloody care; licking into Q with a single-mindedness that had the man's back rolling with the effort to keep himself upright. James had a knack for seduction; all double-ohs did, to a point, but this was different: James had _learned_ \--he'd studied and memorized and teased out every possible scrap of information he could get about how to turn Q inside out. He'd spent months figuring out Q and his body until James could intuitively know what he'd like or dislike; what he needed or wanted so badly that he was on the edge of sobbing. 

With Q's skin buzzing, James decided to take the advantage of that wealth of information. Rimming Q left him a sloppy, incoherent mess on the best of days; and Q was an essentially touch-needy person, so having James too far to touch was rarely something Q could get himself around unless James was too far lost in the cloud of adrenaline and needed him to. 

James kneaded at Q's thighs, fucking Q with his tongue only to bite at a cheek when Q stuffed a hand in his mouth to muffle himself. 

When Q's legs were threatening to give, James slid himself up, pressing Q's back against his chest and supporting him easily, breathing against his shoulder as Q tried to rut against James's cock where it slipped between the cheeks of his arse. James hushed him, dragging them both under the spray of warm water, washing Q one-handed while the other kept the man pinned back against his body, his voice a low murmur, telling Q exactly the ways in which James loved him. 

Q whimpered thankfully as James thumped the shower off, dragging them out of the stall then out of the bathroom, not even bothering with a towel; Q too close to begging and James really didn't care to hear his perfect, posh voice wrecked asking for James to give him something they both needed. Q let himself drop as James let go of the grip he had around his chest, bouncing once before crawling desperately up the bed, the water droplets on his skin shining in inadequate, hotel-room style lighting. His eyes were blown and gorgeous as he stared up at James, his body a perfect expanse. James couldn't stop himself, dropping his mouth onto the ink Q had had himself inscribed with, sucking and licking as Q's hips bucked once, trying to get him back to attending the things at hand. 

James tore himself away just long enough to nearly pull the bedside drawer from its table, knowing Q well enough to know stashing them there was a rote habit that even a change of bedside table wouldn't break. 

Tossing a bottle of lube and a small strip of condoms beside Q's hip, James threw the rest of the box back into the clumsily drawer that was still clinging to its housing. Dropping himself back down, James worked Q into a kiss that he felt in his toes, lightning behind his eyelids as he moaned desperately, kissing back as much as he could. 

James slicked his fingers, easing himself off the edge of losing his own control to focus on making Q lose his. Watching his face, James slowly rubbed his finger over the circle of muscle, watching Q's hips buck against his hand. 

James went just quick enough to still be thorough, eking out Q's moans as he got the gorgeous young genius prepped. When James pushed in, Q's eyes fluttered closed and his mouth fell open in a delicious huff of a moan, and James Bond couldn't for the life of him even try to hold back. Q's adrenaline was fading, he knew it, and picking Q up to drape the man over him like a duvet made them both cry out at the shift in angles. Q folded his long fingers into the back of James's hair, closing his eyes against the man's neck as he made himself talk to him; babbling obscenities and benedictions along with a filthy and extensive list of the things that Q wanted them to do together. When James was on the brink, he pulled Q into a kiss, the pulse of his cock overloading Q with sensation and throwing him over the edge, every shift of air over his skin raising goosepimples and every perfect streak of warmth pressed against him sending him shivering further into it. 

James cleaned them perfunctorily, sliding the blankets down and laying Q over the pillows before he pulled himself flush against the other man's side, wrapping his arms around Q's body and idly brushing calloused fingertips over pale skin lovingly. "It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing. It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive. It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human. 

"It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy. I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence. I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, 'Yes.'" James kissed his hair, the tips of his fingers tracing the anatomically correct heart and the lines of sunlight escaping from it, "It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children. It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back. It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments." 

Q kissed him slowly, smiling; his eyelids drooping impressively, barely slits the high of adrenaline had left him so entirely. 

"Take out the contacts, Q." James reminded him softly, laying the backs of his fingers against Q's cheek with all the fondness he had in him. 

Q blinked, his eyes getting just slightly more open, before he could reach over to the crooked drawer and retrieve a contacts case that he'd specially built for the lenses he'd specially designed. 

If James was being honest with himself, he loved Q's glasses more than he did the contacts. It was as if he could pretend that no one else got to see Q without them; eyelashes soft against his cheeks and the hazel of his eyes uninhibited by the glasses--that was something James desperately wanted to own. Q, at his most naked. 

The contacts were removed, and Q groaned in the back of his throat, tipping his head into his hand so that he could rub at his eyes. James reached for him, sliding him close enough so that Q could lay half on top of him, the two of them pressed together in every way they could be, the both of them toe-curlingly happy at the arrangement. Q laid his head against James's heartbeat, and closed his eyes, James tracing away the slight wet of Q's tired, undoubtedly over-worked eyes away from his lashes. Pecking a last kiss to his lips, James's hand settled low on his back, bleeding more warmth into him than any space heater could.


	2. Take It Slow

Q was asleep against James's shoulder, the tablet in the man's hands detailing the reports, both official and news-worthy, on the strangeness happening to London. 

James's other hand set down his scotch as he flipped through images of the injuries that had taken to looking like the injuries of lightning strikes; moving his hand to toy with Q's gorgeous hair. Pressing his lips to the dark locks, James closed his eyes and let himself think about what could've happened if Q had been one of the victims with the image of their veins painted up their arms in bruises that would never fade. James set the tablet down, anger boiling as he drew one of Q's hands up to his lips, closing his eyes as he pressed his fingers to his lips. London was his home, and he would burn anything that tried to take that from him. James pressed his face into Q's hair, breathing deep. 

It was a sense that he'd always had; something that helped exponentially when he was on a protective detail. It was a sense that something was _wrong_. 

James knew the moment the plane lost contact with Heathrow. The tension that passed through the crew stirred the instincts that told him to secure everything. Q stirred beside him, and James realized that he'd stopped breathing for a moment; long enough that Q, who always listened, woke himself up to make sure. "Wh-Wha's wrong?" He slurred, blinking as James handed him his glasses. 

"If I'm not mistaken, Heathrow's been hit." James replied tightly. 

Q sighed, "Well, that was a matter of time." 

Taking up the tablet, Q got to work. "Why is it that no one's prepared?"

"Because, James..." Q murmured, sucking his lip between his teeth, "it's not just Heathrow. It's all of London and spreading." 

James took a sharp breath, "We need to get into an airport as close as possible; they don't put extra fuel in passenger liners."

"Oh, really? I'd no idea..." Q sniped, "The only issue with that is that every bloody fucking flight that would have stopped at Heathrow is now faced with the same problem!" 

"I'm more worried about you than anyone bloody else, Q. Get us a landing sight: we have to survive to save the world." 

Q's mouth tightened, and James knew that Bastian Kelly, buried under Quartermaster and hacker and lover of a murderer, was repulsed by the very thought of taking the landing that another life might've more direly needed. James wished, for one foolish moment, that he could know what it felt like to be that unselfish and good: but Bastian Kelly, Quartermaster of MI6 and the only living person to love and be truly loved by Bond, was in an airplane that had only so long in the air, and it was James's duty to keep him safe; would be even if they'd never fallen in this impossible love. James would not even try to feign penitence for his ruthlessness: wouldn't even if Hell was real and his soul depended on it. Q was worth any other life lost, James knew it in the deepest parts of himself, and that included his own a thousand times over. 

 _Would you sacrifice him for a mission? If Queen and country cost you Q, would you give him over?_  

James used the call button to call a crew member to them, ordering himself another scotch and his lover a tea, the churning miasma of thoughts raising bile in the back of his throat, because at every turn, the answer James knew he should give couldn't surface loud enough for him to believe the lie. 

Looking at the pinched, tight features of the man next to him, James knew that he had to do everything in his power to keep Q alive and well; and even with the cost of everything he'd once thought rote about him, James would never, not for one moment, falter. James considered reading over Q's shoulder; he knew the man had accessed pre-flight logs detailing the amount of fuel put into the plane, and was calculating where to put it down safely. But James also knew that he was calculating for the thousand other flights as well. 

James let almost a half-hour pass before he got the crew member back to them again, quietly asking for one of the croissants that they'd included with dinner and an orange that they kept for mid-flight snacks. He pulled the croissant to pieces first and fed it to Q without the man so much as noticing, and James wondered if it should worry him that they were so used to this by now that Q didn't snap out of his information trance when a soft scrap of pastry pressed against his lower lip. James touched Q's cheek before opening the orange, and he looked up at him, blinking the pixels out of his eyes, "What do you need?" 

Q licked his lips, eyes glancing back down to the tablet before meeting James's from under his thick fringe of lashes, "I need to patch into the communications from air traffic control to the flight to guide them to a small air strip normally used by crop dusters." 

"That will be a fun landing..." James sighed, shaking his head slightly and leaning down into the footwell in front of Q, grabbing out a bluetooth device much like the one Q used in the middle of his orchestra at home. 

"In all honesty, I'd feel better if you and Alec were at the bloody controls than these unknown quantities, but Alec is holed up with Eve, and I'm not sure the co-pilot would be alright with you rendering his commanding officer unconscious to slide into the captain's chair." 

James let out a snort, but his mind whirled, considering the weight of the plane and if Q could keep himself calm enough to be in the second chair. 

Reaching over, Q wove their fingers together and pressed a kiss to James's knuckles. "When we get home, I'd appreciate it if you'd be so kind as to drag me to bed and not let me out until next year." 

"Absolutely." James growled, nipping at Q's free ear as he attached the Bluetooth to the other one. "Get us on the ground." 

Q let out a breath, closing his eyes even before James's lips met his, his thumb grazing over James's jaw, keeping the kiss going for as long as he could. "I love you," Q whispered before turning back to his tablet, the Bluetooth starting up in his ear. 

James got up, going up to the galley with a charming smile for the crew. "Can I help you with anything, Mr. Rocher?" A pert blond asked, blinking up at him with a plastered-on smile. 

"There's a problem with air traffic control, I'm aware of it. Do you have confidence in your pilots?" 

The blond gaped like a fish out of water, "I-I--" 

An older woman pushed her out of the way, "For as much as our pilot is a drunk and a womanizer, I've served you two scotches--" 

"And yet I'd be willing to put money down that my blood-alcohol level is lower than his." 

The woman looked him up and down, pursing her lips, "You can fly a passenger jet?"

"Absolutely." 

She nodded, gesturing with a nod to the cockpit. "You look the type to be able to handle a man who doesn't realize he's an incompetent." 

James's charm kicked up a couple of notches, "I've been known to be able to get an idiot from his high horse, yes." 

She turned to the door to the cockpit, knocking in a rhythm that had the younger of the two opening it, his eyes flashing from her to James. "Get him out; Mr. Rocher can second-chair." 

The co-pilot's face darkened, looking over his shoulder into the cockpit before he nodded once, "He was trying to land us anyway." 

The woman looked murderous, coming only up to his bicep but still menacingly glaring at the co-pilot. "Mr. Rocher." She said simply, and James felt a twist of warmth in his chest at how acutely she reminded him of M.

James nodded to her once, and the co-pilot was smart enough to simply get out of his way, and James could smell the vodka in the close, dim humidity. James wrinkled his nose, taking the stride into the cockpit and putting his hands on the back of the man's neck, hitting a pressure point to incapacitate but not kill him, lifting him out of the chair and dumping him carelessly. "Well, at least I'm bloody close enough to retirement not to care," the woman sighed. "Let's get this bird on the ground, gentlemen."

The co-pilot closed the door, sitting beside James and putting his headset on, glancing to the side, "I'm Steven."

"James." He replied, shaking his hand shortly before turning to the controls. "Have you ever committed a mutiny before?"

"This would be my first." 

"Let's hope it's the last as well, then, shall we?" 


	3. Don't Worry 'Bout A Thing

The set to Q's mouth spoke to his utter lack of surprise at having become Air Traffic Control only for his lover to be flirting on the other side of the comm's link. The landing had been difficult: too much weight, and not enough runway--but they'd managed without casualty. Q's eyes as James and the copilot--the last two to exit the plane--slid down the emergency slide were wild, his hands half-curled into talons and shaking like a leaf. James strode to him, pulling Q's arms around him and kissing him with all the sublety of a punch. Q's fingers curled hard against James's nape, blunt nails scratching at his skin as they kissed which teeth and tongues and absolutely no finesse. James clutched Q tight to him, nose buried in the crook of his shoulder and neck, breathing him in raggedly. "I'm sorry, love."

Q shook his head, "We made it out okay, right?"

"We did. We're safe, everyone is."

"I rerouted every flight that would've arrived in Heathrow. There won't be any more flights to England--any of England--until this mess is sorted."

James nodded, not bothering to ask if word of this being terrorism had gotten out; Q would've nipped anything remotely like that in the bud. "I have my gun, and you have your laptop; we'll get this mess sorted."

Q looked at James, studying him, and knowing that he shouldn't have come back with Bond; he should have set up in safety, and guided him from there. But when faced with the prospect of risking losing contact, he bloody couldn't cope with the thought.

The flight attendant who'd helped him into the cockpit circled close, away from one of the younger people on the flight that had mostly been filled with electricians and engineers desperately being called in by England. "Mr. Rocher, allow me to thank you for not being an overly charming terrorist." 

James offered her his hand, bending over hers when she gave it and kissing the back, "Thank you for letting me make sure we got out of this in one piece. My husband hates to fly, and I think one bad landing would've scared him off it for good." 

She smiled at Q, "The captain's still unconscious." 

"Sleeping it off, I expect." James hummed non-committally. "Air Traffic Control seemed to know that he needed investigation." 

It wasn't a lie; the real Air Traffic Control was trying to investigate him, and Q had given them the last pieces they needed once he'd hacked into their files. Records of James's conversation with the crew would cement the man's fate, even if James Rocher was never able to be found for interview. Q looked over at the drunken lout, wishing on him the worst hangover that could possibly be had. James's arm tightened around his waist, and Q looked back, smiling a little dazedly at the woman. 

"I'm glad you were here, Messrs. Rocher." She said finally, "Especially if you only took over for your husband." 

James smiled as she excused herself, kissing Q's hair and sighing as the man wrapped his arms more securely around him. "Is it fixed that everyone will be going a safer way?" 

"As much as it can be. If there are any more idiots like him, we only have the one of you to charm your way into the cockpit and take over." Q muttered darkly, "Oh, and _husband_? If we're to marry, James, I want a bloody good honeymoon; none of this world-ending crap." 

Q was grinning, and James just shook his head, pulling him into a slow, soft kiss, "Phuket or Beijing?" 

Q groaned happily, kissing him again, loose and sweet. He was so young and vivacious in that moment that James couldn't help but light up. 

"We can decide when this mess is over. For now, we need to get you somewhere safe." 

Q took a deep breath and shook his head, biting his lip, "I'm not leaving you in the field with a lifeline that can only hold charge for so long." 

James's features softened, and he pulled Q in, kissing him softly. "You need safety, Q." 

"And you need support, James. I can fire a gun; I can fight. I might not be as good as you are, but--" James kissed him, harder this time, and it was like the world actually clicked into place, creating a bigger picture. James needed him safe, because anyone who'd loved him and fought alongside him had died in the process. Q raised his hands up to cup around James's neck, resting his forehead against James's. "They weren't me, James. I'm too stubborn to die." 

James gripped his wrists only just gently enough not to be painful. "I can't lose you." 

"Your specialty is resurrection, James. And I work in nothing but miracles. Trust me?" James knew he wasn't asking if James did; that had been written in every kiss they'd ever shared and cemented with every lazy morning James pulled Q back into their bed. 

"Trusting you not to die seems to go against all logic." James told him tightly, "You get shot at; I take the bullet, Q." 

Q's eyes flashed, but he bit back any argument, raising himself to press a kiss to James's cheek. "It's you and me. The world trembles." 

James turned as a very large truck roared up the runway; followed by all manner of emergency vehicles. He couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out as he saw Alec standing inside the truck so that he could ride with his torso out of the sunroof. Alec let out a cry of victory, then flipped James off. 

"Have all my fun!" 

James shook his head, "You called Alec?" 

"He's the only idiot that would actually plug things in when the battery runs low, and Eve appreciated that." Q shrugged. Eve swung herself out of the driver's seat of the truck, grinning at them both and yanking Q into a tight embrace. 

"You are a bloody buggering idiot, and I love you, but I will kill you if you try anything so stupid again." 

Q shrugged again, looking at James, "It wasn't that hard. I don't know what you lot complain about. Getting shot at was rather invigorating, and somehow, I managed to be stealthy enough that it wasn't actually _me_ they were shooting at." Eve let out a shocked laugh, hitting Q hard in the chest and shaking her head at him, eyes bright with mirth. 

"Maybe we should consider a new division: skinny boffin infiltrator teams." 

"It'd certainly lessen the double-ohs' urge to complain about getting into and out of tight places." 

"I'm nipping this in the bud here and now; I will get out of any tight place necessary if you keep Q somewhere where there will be _no_ shooting at him, Eve." James cut in. 

"Mate, this could be g--Yep, nope. Never mind. Shutting up." Alec cut off, voice tight and high as James glowered at him, certain death in his eyes. 

"You're going to have to teach me that." Eve ordered, seizing Q's arm and dragging him along to the truck, leaving the two agents to pick up the bags Q and James had carried on; all their supplies and clothes they'd brought to Taipei. 

"So, going into hiding with Moneypenny?" James started conversationally, swinging the bags into the back. 

Alec shrugged, "Someone had to keep her company when Win goes into hibernation." 

James snorted, shaking his head as he threw himself up into the truck, sliding in close to Q just because he wanted to and he could. Q pulled his legs up, laying them over James's lap and tucking himself in against James's neck softly, arms wrapped around himself. James reached up to play with Q's curls, sighing happily as Eve got the truck roaring to life, tearing out of the airstrip with no regard for her passengers' heart rates. 

"James, let's agree never to let her drive again." Alec called back through gritted teeth as Eve skidded into a drift over onto the road. 

"Agreed!" Q squeaked, tucking his face against James's chest. "Eve, I haven't gotten motion sick since I was seventeen, but you're taking me back."

Eve growled, slowing just slightly. 

"Need I worry that the building is still standing with Alec and you there unsupervised?" 

"Q, darling, I would've thought you'd've learned by now that where Alec's concerned, you should always have a worry for structural integrity." 

Q snorted, sighing tiredly. "We'd better still have our things in one piece, Eve, or, so help me, I will make you go shopping to replace everything you let Alec destroy. And I'll be sending him with you." Eve and Alec groaned like children, and James stifled a laugh, turning his face into Q's hair and closing his eyes against the burst of adrenaline that Eve's driving was causing. 

"With so much power out, we're on the brink of marshal law." Eve told them, "When Alec and I started the trek out to come get you, the city was shutting down; military patrols have been established and the only people allowed through the barricade are government or certified electricians. Three people died in the surge before it all went out. We only have these numbers because people are scared and using up battery on their cells and their radios to get the information out."

"Bloody hell." Q muttered, "That's bound to ratchet up the terror."

"What secure location am I taking you to?" Eve asked Q, eyes piercing, "You are staying out of--"

"No, actually; and you can take me to Q-Branch. I can see if I can ease a generator into working. This is a big enough hack that I should be able to back-hack it."

"Q, if I remember correctly, when you were giving me the sitrep, you included the phrase 'could make Q-Branch implode'. What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" James growled. 

"James, I'll be perfectly fine. Q-Branch is my territory: I can take care of myself." 

"This comes to you as a shock, James?" Eve laughed mirthlessly, "This is why I knew I had to call Q-Branch reinforcements."

"Jasmine's down there with 003 as back-up right now." Alec explained. 

Q bit out a curse in Russian that had Alec's eyebrows shooting into his hairline. "There really aren't enough double-ohs to go around, Eve." 

"003 will be going back to Tanner and his family once we're there to relieve him. It's just a precaution for being in the building while our defenses are weakened. He, Alec, and James are the only three who have been pressed into service in any way; the others are taking care of friends and family or they've gotten the hell out of dodge." 

"Lucky us, mate." Alec chuckled. 

"You volunteered," Eve snapped harshly, "if you recall, 006, I in no way agreed to giving you access to the house, you simply broke in and expected me to deal with the security protocols." 

"You're lucky Eve was there, Alec." Q mused, "The flat takes lethal measures unless another, system-recognized person is at risk of falling victim, too. Which is not to say that even if she hadn't disabled the alarm, James wouldn't be mourning a friend." 

"Oh? And how would you have killed me, Q?" Alec scoffed. 

"Without Eve there, the apartment seals itself; the air system starts a vacuum, and the entire thing becomes a perfectly preserved, airless, escape-proof tomb; with her there, so long as she's far enough away for it to be reasonable, a small but unbelievably powerful explosive drops into a pocket, which can be activated with a simple whistle tune, but will automatically activate after a half-hour if it hasn't been removed; and if she's too close, a flash-bomb with added percusive blast will go off, giving enough time for her or whomever it is to get away, admittedly with ringing ears."

James was hiding his smirk against the back of Q's neck, but it wasn't as if there were any doubt in their minds that it was there. Q reached back, scratching his fingertips into James's hair, eliciting a low growl of a moan. Q sighed happily, basking in what he knew would be the calm before the storm. 

"Let's get this taken care of now, gents: if Q can't get enough of the generators to work, James and I are taking Q home with or without Alec or Q's assistance. Jasmine will be removed as well, though I think she'd actually walk out with us instead of James throwing her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry." 

"I wouldn't--" Q started. 

"Oh, please, not only would you let it digress that far--without noticing it had, no less--you'd end up shagging him on the workshop floor if he let you expose bits where there's glass and shards on the ground." 

"Not happening." James growled, but he was smiling, nibbling at Q's ear. 

"What about the lift? We could go up while I'm going down." Q offered in a sultry voice, just to make Alec and Eve cringe. 

It got a laugh out of James, which was possibly better than his primary goal, so Q grinned; the expression lasting until they were drawing near city limits, and the trucks, tanks, and armed men wiped any hint of levity away.


	4. Put On Your Warpaint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a little bit late and rather short, but I'm currently in hospital, and therefore not at my best. Sorry, my freaky darlings. I should be home free tomorrow, though!

Breaking into MI6 with the entire building on DEFCON-1 was sickeningly simple for Alec and Bond, and Q followed, every inch worried, as they took his carefully crafted defenses apart. 

"Dear, if the Swarm wasn't down, they'd never've." Moneypenny tried to assure him, but Q just made more of a whining noise in the back of his throat, gesturing to the mess the two men had managed to make with a disbelief he really shouldn't have had.

"When do you two retire again, and can we get less...?" Q waved his hands, coherent thoughts transmuted into words apparently a thing of the past for him. 

"Less dangerous, destructive ones? Unfortunately not, dear. We have to get the really good ones, or someone else will, and then we'll be in trouble." Eve patted him on the shoulder with no real scrap of consolation. 

"If it makes you feel any better," James murmured, "we're the best agents MI6 has ever had. Statistically speaking, you won't find another pair in any of our lifetimes." 

Q shook his head, "Not a comfort at this juncture, because you two will _train_ the next batch and then we'll have fifty and I'll just cry myself to death because there will be no intact tech ever again." 

"I believe we can be bribed to put the fear of god into any youngins, don't you think, James?" 

"I have no demands for the bribe, Alec." 

"Not even a night at the opera? Something equally daft and supposedly classy?" Alec teased. 

"Just because you'd take Eve to a heavy metal concert just to watch the idiots on stage hurt themselves does not mean Q and I don't go on glorious outings." 

"Really? Name one." 

"I was his arm-candy, as the Americans have so thoughtfully started saying, for a gallery opening with eight of his pieces; we went to a wickedly entertaining rendition of A Midsummer Night's Dream--" 

"Puck was in skinny jeans that would've made even your legs fall off, Evie." Q laughed. 

"--there was even one memorable occasion when a long-standing bet was settled on how precise those aforementioned pocket bombs really are." James continued dryly, "And you would've ended up pink mist." 

Q hissed as James drew his side-arm to open the door to Q-Branch, and that little noise was enough to give him pause, James turning his head to cock a brow questioningly, obeying when Q pressed him out of the way, re-holstering it and ignoring Alec's look of disbelief at what he'd just watched. Q manually overrode the system, opening the door with a hiss, only to look up and find Jasmine smirking on the other side, 003 lurking behind her. 

"Got in that spelunking you've been after me to join you for?" 

"Of course, boss. And that back way out you built is standing up gorgeously." 

"Good. The manual give you a bit of trouble?" 

Jasmine shrugged, "003 had an issue with getting the door open." 

Q's gaze flashed from the lurking agent to his unofficial favourite, "I take it you utilized the very same strategy you use in most other things?" 

"Booting my way through with no regard for what stands in my way? What else would've gotten us down here?" 

Q chuckled warmly, horribly fond. "Jas, go see if there are any generators that've suffered under the surges while the power's still down." 

Jasmine nodded, reaching over to grab Alec's shirt front, sketching a salute to 003 as she marched towards the grotto dedicated to their back-up power generators. 

"003, you'll find it unspeakably easy to get out." Q dismissed, "Thank you for your help. Give Tanner my best." 

"Sir." The agent answered, nodding to Moneypenny before passing James to go out the way they'd come through. 

Sighing, Q rolled his shoulders, cricking his joints and shaking out his fingers. 

"We've got a blow-out for generator two, but we seem to be otherwise intact." Jasmine reported, "Generators four and eight should have a full battery still. We're not running much, right, boss?" 

"Not much at all, no." Q muttered darkly, "First, we hack, Jas--" 

Q was cut off, quite simply, by a small explosion rocking the entire branch, the doors that it'd been centred over quivering dangerously, but not quite breaking. 

James had half-thrown himself forward around Q, ducking him down to provide as much cover as his own body could afford him; Alec with Eve and Jasmine in much the same position. Looking over his shoulder, James's mouth fell open, his face pale as he watched men that appeared to be military swarming the blast-proof doors, trying to break their way in. "Q, we have to get out!" Alec bellowed. 

"Not bloody likely!" Jasmine snarled, her near-black eyes like flint as she threw herself towards her desk, picking up what looked to be a formless blob of slime, throwing it as hard as she could against the doors, sending a wave of blue rippling out from the impact and sending the intruders through the air as the charge snapped out at them. "Alec, activate generator three, it should have enough juice--" 

Q let out a laugh, "This is why you're my favourite, Jas, honestly." Q crossed to another station, feeding a blank card through something that James had thought was a disk drive, the sound of Alec booting up the generator only barely proceeding the terminal flicking to life. "Let's get this party started, shall we, dears?" 

The fact that there was a large, red button on the screen registered an instinctive flash of discord through James, even as Q pressed its activation. 

"Now!" Jasmine yelled as the intruders stumbled to their feet. 

Q brought his fingers down on the button, and everything from the whine of the terminal to the unsettling groan of the generator crashed to a deafening halt. James looked back to Q, expecting a creative curse. What he found would've haunted the nightmares of just about anyone else: his lover was so deviously pleased that even James's stomach lurched at the look of destructive glee on his features. 

Jasmine and Q let out simultaneous shouts of triumph as two doors slid open on either side of the small foyer separating the main floor from the rest of the lower levels. Run on what looked to be car batteries, James's eyes widened in horror at the buzz-saws whirring menacingly towards the armed professionals now tumbling over themselves and each other to try to get away. 

"Boss?" Jasmine asked breathlessly, her dreads flaring out around her head in an impressive halo of movement as she turned to look back at him, one pierced eyebrow raised. 

Q's smile went wider, more bloodthirsty, "With pleasure, Miss Eveline." Q pressed a single key as Jasmine grabbed Eve, James, and Alec as he reappeared, upending a workbench to the left of Q's standing desk and taking cover behind it. 

Noise like a thousand tiny marbles being dropped down marble stairs cut out even the whirring of the blades, and James's eyes went wide, his brows going up. 

Jasmine let out two whistles, of two different notes, and they all cowered as every one of the miniature explosives exploded at once. Jasmine let out a short, startled scream, twisting and burying her head against Q's chest as he reached over, covering her ears with his hands, despite how useless that really was. 

As everything settled, Q and Jasmine squirmed, managing not to impale anyone on their sharp limbs as they raised themselves enough to see over the edge of the table. 

"That...was worth it." Q deemed, eyes laughter-bright. 

"James, your boffins are bloody dangerous." Alec laughed, helping Eve to her feet as James got brought up by Q. 

"Ah, so now they're _my_ boffins." James laughed. 

"Explosives and destructive tendencies: they didn't learn this from me." Alec managed just barely to keep his straight face for more than a few seconds, but Jasmine's expression helped not at all. 

"The door's intact, at least." James commented with a strained note to his voice. 

"We made a door, let's close it before we have too many unfriendlies, shall we, boss?" 

Q's face darkened but he nodded. "James, I need your gun. Jas, grab me the keys to the Rocket and hold the door poem until the last second. If I don't make it back...well, you know what to do." Jasmine nodded at Q, scurrying off to grab said keys while James merely gaped. 

"No. Absolutely--" James cut off as Q strode to his standing desk, reaching beneath it and cocking the gun he pulled out in one movement. "Q!"

"I'm the only one who knows what to do, James. I'm not going into combat," Q caught the keys out of the air as Jasmine tossed them, "I'm keeping us safe."


	5. A Brick Tied To Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Out of the hospital at last. Have some fic!

"Jasmine, what the bloody hell is he doing?" James growled, eyes like death. 

"We added a packet just under the air vents with a specially-formulated fast-expansion foam, for lack of a better word. It releases in a room this size in twenty seconds, and hardens to the point where any air that had been in the room is gone, encasing anyone remaining in what amounts to a mosquito in amber." Jasmine replied quickly, "Normally, we can trigger it remotely. What Boss is doing is obstructing the container to release the foam just from the pressure it's under. If he can't get out of a room in time, he'll be trapped."

"What's the countermeasure?" James snapped, looking more furious than Jasmine had ever wanted to see him. 

"A frequency of sound. Without power to the audio systems in the building, we can't do jack." Jasmine shrugged a shoulder, lip curling under her pierced nose as she turned to Q's previously used terminal, clicking into and out of things faster than James could follow, really. "No way in hell to boot up the CCTV, but..." With a flourish, Jasmine clicked a final key, and Q's tracker was activated, reading his heart rate and measuring his breathing and brain activity. 

"With the force of the foam break the doors?" Eve asked, bending over the desk and twisting to make Jasmine acknowledge speaking. 

"Of course not. It's feather-light: so long as no one tries to blow-torch their way through, it's meant to leave _everything_ intact. But you put flame to that bitch, and it's a fucking inferno, triggering the fire sprinklers to destroy anything else that could've possibly been left." 

"And when were you planning on telling us?" Eve asked, crossing her arms over her chest and rocking back on one heel. 

"Honestly, we were drunk, Q was narco-engineering: I'm bloody shocked he remembers." James looked murderous at the mention of Q's sleeplessness, and Eve paled at the thought of just what a tired Q was capable of. 

"Why were you drunk?" 

Jasmine shrugged, "James was getting out of Peru with little more than a splinter and Q needed a drink after the day he'd had for nearly seventy-two hours before that particular extraction took place. Orders were to make damn sure he kept his head, ma'am, not to refuse him a small creature comfort." 

A muscle in James's jaw worked as he stared at the monitor, the map Jasmine had blown up of MI6 registering his movements, now far too fast on a prototype motorcycle the boffins had lovingly named the Rocket. The sheer intensity of his features brought everyone to a shuddering silence, watching with him. "He'll be fine, mate." Alec assured under his breath. 

"He'd damn well better be." James growled, nearly roaring when Q's dot took an unnecessary flight backwards, as if he'd been clotheslined. James strode to the doors, unable to hear the others as he simply reached into his holster, shooting where Q had put the packet and continuing to walk as it exploded, sealing the others inside the glass bubble of Q-Branch's main stage. James strode through the path Q had made himself to go back down, cutting it off with icy efficiency as he made his way for the room Q had been in. James shot four times, into the knees of the three military-dressed men that had taken Q by surprise. Q threw the one trying to wrangle him down over one of the others, looking up at James panting and flushed. James reached out, pulling Q's arm along away from the sealed rooms of MI6, calmly stepping around the umbrella stand--of all damn things--they'd used to remove Q from the bike, picking it up and straddling it, Q scrabbling to follow suit. 

James shot the final pack, tearing out of the building instead of Q's intended path. Q clung to him, head buried between his shoulders as they tore through the occupied streets of London. James headed for Scotland Yard under the proviso that he would put his command centre there were it up to him. James went until they were stopped, disembarking with himself between Q and as much danger as he could provide cover for. "I am an agent of MI6, the facilities--" 

Q knocked his knees out from under him, wrapping his arm around James's back, rolling them despite the weight of his muscle-bound agent. The shock was enough to miss the initial sound of release, but the high whine of the missile cutting through air was unmistakable. Q's long fingers reached for the bike, pulling something that, with James knowing Q the way he did, seemed an unlikely-safe thing to pull. The Rocket let out a whirring sound, the tiny body unfolding an armour that Q yanked them against like a shield. When the missile exploded the grouping of military men before them, Q and James were wrapped up together, huddled behind an unbelievably sturdy shield, hands over their ears and bodies hunkered down as much as possible, the force of the blast rocking James in his crouched position but not remotely quivering the lightweight bike. 

"It was not that heavy." 

"Nanotechnology, love. By god, will you never know me?" Q laughed, tweaking a wire in the bike so that the armour coating rippled and slid into itself, folding back to reveal the minute spikes that the wheels had grown to keep the bike planted where it was. "The real question is whether they were shooting for us, or if they meant to rid London of its military support." 

"Do you remember when I said that this wasn't enough to incite real terror?" 

"They're inciting terror." Q nodded grimly, eyes scanning rooftops and ruling out sniper perches. "We need to get to somewhere with cover." 

"You're not going to like this," James intoned, eyes on the towering Gothic structure just up the street. 

" _No_." Q bit out, but James's hand had managed a grip on his shirt, dragging him along anyway, the awkward, stunted run as they crouched making Q growl to himself, "We have a perfectly bloody good mode of transport to get the rest of the way to the Met!" 

"Not with a tank between us and their door!" James argued. "We don't even bloody know if there are any actual military force here, or if it's all been corrupted." 

Q twisted out of James's grip, throwing himself between James and the doors of Westminster Abbey. "James, I realize the stained glass provides coverage and the monk's holes in the church are perfect for taking a shot, but, love, it's the church of the monarchy. This is the building I put my foot down against blowing up." 

"Q," James laughed, "will you never know me?" Pushing them through, James turned and slammed the door before turning to the open air of the iconic building. 

Scared, young faces stared back at him; a petite girl in the centre, unhealthily skinny but radiating a power that had had her audience captivated. 

Street kids huddled in a circle, hands joined as the girl in the middle had preached in this ancient cathedral, trying to give them hope. 

"Studs; Faux, give the lunkhead a hand with a pew, block the doors." Q ordered immediately, and two of the larger, more healthy-looking boys stood, regarding them both. "I was one of you; don't bloody fucking think for a fucking minute that your code isn't so foolproof that I couldn't figure it out." The two boys moved with this assertion, looking no more welcoming, but passing Q to move to one of the pews, pausing to stare at Bond expectantly for the minute it took him to remember to move. "There's some fucked up shite going on out there, and this place has enough hiding places that the bastards chasing us won't see an attack coming. We don't want you in the crossfire--" 

"You'll have me in the battle," the woman told Q coldly, standing her full, albeit short, height and raising her chin. "you were one of us: what would you do?" 

Q smiled slowly, "Take no fucking prisoners." Q reached out his hand, and the woman, covered in ratty, half-studded clothing, slapped her own onto his forearm, the two of them shaking like familiar warriors instead of a Quartermaster of MI6 and a kid. 

"And why bother with their fucking names?" She replied, grinning a pierced, black-lipstick smeared grin. 

"What do we do?" Asked the youngest-looking there. 

"You an' me are going to help the others from up there." Q told him, voice sliding into a far less posh drawl. He was indicating the ceiling, and the kid; tiny, all bones and pale, bruised-looking skin, stared open-mouthed upwards. "007," Q was instantly back to posh and proper, "outfit our merry band of miscreants with any weapons you can find. I've got my phone, and it'll be enough with Jasmine running point in headquarters." 

"What are you plotting?" 

Q smiled, a glint in his eyes that had James fighting the urge to take a step back. "Chaos." 

It was a testament to how fully he trusted Q that James didn't push, simply barricading the door and doing as he'd been ordered to do. 

"Loose the suit, codger." The one James would assume was Studs spat at him, "This's gonna be a fucking fight." 

James shed the suit jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves, the scars on his forearms now plain and the cut of the jacket no longer smoothing over the tense lines of muscle. Studs and Faux stumbled back slightly, "Get the fucking candles and see if you can find me a bloody oil jar." 

"James..." Q's scolding was enough to make James grin nastily. 

"It's not going to be the Abbey, Q. I'm not a heathen." 

Q gave him a look of such intense doubt that James felt it necessary to flip him off, much to the children's delight. Shaking his head, the Quartermaster of MI6 offered a hand to the small, skeletal boy, leading him along. "Don't tell me a bloody thing, Bond." 

"Of course, Quartermaster. Plausible deniability and all that." Smiling a slow, wolfish smile, James turned to the rest, feeling much like what Q must at the opening strains of his technological orchestra. "I need rope, cord, chain. Anything you can find. Look for tools; cleaning supplies, even. Anything that would fucking hurt." 

With an exchange of looks that were pure gleeful malice, they scattered to do as he'd ordered. "Aim for the eyes, guys. You know the drill!" The young leader yelled after them, turning to James, "Your friend's taken the youngest, but we've got a couple who shouldn't be in this fight anymore than he should be." 

"Could they act as look-outs?" 

She bit her pierced lip in thought, glancing over at the apparent culprits. "Eye-Sore's da poured peroxide into his eyes, he can hardly see," James's fists very nearly clenched, "but Buzz and Twitch are okay so long as they're not on the hallucinogenics..." 

James glanced over at them, "Are they high now?" 

"Haven't been able to score since this started." James nodded once. 

"One at my back; I'm used to the people watching my back not being perfect." James muttered, then winced, because that hadn't been a lie years ago, but now it damn near was. "The other goes with whoever can really watch their own. We can't afford to simply hide them; we have to keep track." 

She nodded, "I know that. Buzz got started on the junk in a Young Offenders after he was put in for killing his da to save his mum. Making 'im fight's a bad choice." James agreed, "Twitch was a drugs baby, he's never been strong enough to win a staring contest, much less a fight." 

James's jaw twitched, and he looked up at the highest point in the Abbey, thinking of Q. Q had been a drugs baby. He'd been left on the steps of a church in a small, quiet town in France, and he'd still managed to make it out, and to be okay. James knew it was in no small part to the kind and loving woman who'd first taken him in; a woman who'd died when Q was seven, but had stayed in his heart and in his head for long enough that Q had gotten himself through everything else. 

Looking back at the boy, James felt a wave of fierce pride and gratitude for Q and the small miracle that had saved him. Q was utterly right to say that he worked in miracles; it was a family trait.

"Twitch can come with me." James didn't bother to question his motives behind offering to take on a boy who reminded him of the man he loved most. "Buzz!" He called the boy's attention, "You scared of heights?" 

"N-No, sir." 

"There's a way onto the roof. Keep watch, let me know when they come." 

Buzz nodded, whirling and running for the inner bowels of the church. 

"Thanks." The girl said, giving James a once over, "Most suits are heartless." 

"He wasn't lying when he said he was one of you, once. And I can't be heartless when you're willing to help." 

Her strange, grey-green eyes flashed with something else, and she narrowed her eyes, "You're a good man. That bit you can't excuse away."


	6. Carry You Away From War

Q looked over the edge of the perch he'd fitted himself and his young companion into, watching James organize the destruction. 

"When I regain my capacity for rational thought, I'm going to kill myself for allowing James Bond in this bloody building." Q sighed. 

The kid giggled slightly, looking up at Q, "This place's survived worse." 

Q looked at him, and then grinned, "True." 

"What are we doing up here?" 

"Well, we're doing several things. You are here to help me keep track, so that we can help the others down there, make sure they don't get snuck up on. I'm also giving the people chasing us some bait, so they know where to find us. And we're also trying to find where all this starts from." 

"If you can figure that, you can stop it dead." The kid nodded, biting his cracked lips. 

"Cut the head off the snake--" 

"--the body dies." The kid nodded, "What can I do?" 

"For now, I need you to try to build up a defense between us and anyone that could come up the way we came. All I've got is one phone--" 

"Oi!" The kid suddenly bellowed, loud enough that at least three of the kids below startled like mad, "Snatch! You got that bleedin' laptop?" 

The girl he'd apparently been talking to nodded up at him, and he turned to Q, "I'll go down to get it. We haven't turned it on since Snatch stole it; was gonna take it to a bloke we knew to get it made so we can sell it." 

"Alright, Micro." Q laughed, gently clapping him on the back, careful not to damage the tiny boy. "Go on, quick as you can." 

"Never mind that." James called up, "I'll bring it." 

Q looked at the boy, "You might need to make sure he doesn't loose his way." 

"Yessir." Micro giggled. 

James had the kid stay away for a while, jogging up to the perch though he could barely fit, and handing Q the backpack with a hint of a smile. He leaned in, kissing Q gently, "We're getting out of this." He whispered, "And when we do, I'm folding you up in our bed and reading every book we have." 

Q smiled, kissing him back, full and sweet. "Out of the ash I rise with my red hair and I eat men like air." 

James growled, low and soft, and Q simply pulled him in, kissing him. "Be careful, love. I don't know what I'd do if you died, even if you came back again." 

Q smiled softly, caressing James's cheek with the backs of his fingers, "You'd make this world a safer place for me to come back to. Just like I would for you." 

James bit into a kiss, and wished to god that it didn't feel as though it was a good-bye. 

Q watched him go, his grip tightening until his knuckles ached at how hard he was clutching the bag. He blinked away the sense of loss that threatened to crush him, swallowing around a lump in his throat and forcing himself to be the Quartermaster James needed in order to have a chance at survival. 

He let a feral grin slide over his features as Micro rejoined him a few moments later, "Let's get to playing, shall we?" 

Opting to see just how far he could get before the laptop was necessary, Q sent a hook into Q-Branch, waiting for Jasmine to bite and let him in. 

_"Where the bloody hell--"_

"Eve, calm down. I'm with James, we're okay. We've taken refuge in Westminster, but I find myself needing to mark ourselves with a target while Jas and I find Alec a target." 

_"On it, boss. What do you need?"_ Jasmine confirmed. 

"I'm going to back hack like I've never done before, and I don't intend on being subtle about where I'm hiding. Outfit 006 with everything you think he'll need. We don't know who to trust about this: James and I were attacked trying to get to an actual military outpost, and they only missed blowing us up with it because my hearing is incredible." 

_"Bloody fucking--"_

"Eve! Now is not the time!" Q snapped ruthlessly. 

_"Alright, boss. I've already got a back hack started, you want me to route it through to you?"_

"Please and thank you, Miss Eveline." Q muttered, "And, Eve? We will _try_ not to burn the Abbey to the ground." 

Jasmine cut off communications between them before Eve could reply, just like Q knew she would, and he couldn't help the swell of intense pride that rose in his chest. His screen was suddenly overlaid with the image of what he knew would be on Jasmine's monitor in the tunnels, and he grinned to himself, unrolling a keyboard made of a gel-like substance, easily transportable and easily overlooked to anyone who didn't know quite what those wires would be. 

"Okay, here we go, Micro. Have a seat." Q murmured, "I'm laying a trail of breadcrumbs here; when that's done, you tell the others down there that we're expecting company." 

"Alright." Micro muttered nervously. 

Q was quiet for only a few minutes before he looked up sharply at Micro, nodding once. 

"Oi! Incoming!" Micro bellowed, and Q snorted to himself at the volume the tiny body could produce. 

Q sent a text to Jasmine, then pulled the laptop towards him, opening it up and tracing the steps he'd just taken to get into the system that had breached every electrical plant in the city, his long, pale fingers flying over the keys. "Suck this, bitches." He growled the Americanism, making a mental note that having a movie interrupt Bond's reading time would be very agreeable. From memory, the worm he'd just written would eat every piece of code that the particular hacker would ever come up with, taking their digital equivalent of a fingerprint and tearing anything bearing it apart. 

Down in the Abbey, he could hear the doors forced open over whatever blockade James had rigged in front of it, and he grit his teeth against the instinctive urge to ream whoever it bloody was a new one for destroying the bloody Abbey. 

"Oh, hell..." Micro breathed, watching with wide eyes as the chaos unfolded below. 

Q raised himself up awkwardly, looking over the ledge, though the height of it was now beginning to make his stomach turn. 

Before Q's eyes, the advancing strike team was doused in lamp oil from swinging buckets and set on fire by a shrouded figure with a candelabra. "Tha's Hope." Micro murmured, amazed. 

"She's a good one." Q noted. 

As they watched, an obviously-blind kid roared, yanking on a rope that had held two pews aloft, and even with the rope snapping under the weight, the pews crushed at least four of the advancing enemies, two of whom hadn't caught fire. 

The girl--Hope--had her candelabra snatched away, and she flipped her shroud off her shoulders in an impressive whirl, throwing it over the head of the man who'd taken her weapon before kneeing up into his ribs, then kicking out in his solar plexus. She grabbed the two sides of the shroud, swinging the stunned assailant around before simply releasing one end so that he all but flew into the path of others, just barely giving her enough time to simply disappear. 

Q's breath caught as he watched the kid that had pulled the first rope and James on either side of the room, a tether Q couldn't hope to see from up there between them, James signalling to someone beside the blind kid that it was time, the tether pulled tight. 

If Q had to guess, he'd put money on some form of wire or fishing line; James's hands bare to it where he'd given leather gloves to the kid to try to protect his skin as they tugged on their ends, pulling it taught just at ankle height. 

It was an effective tripwire, sending the first line of men crashing to the floor, sending the second into a high alert that had them far too jumpy to be as trained as James was. 

"Keep watch at the entrance, Micro." Q whispered, his clever fingers finding the weight of the gun James had put in the backpack with the laptop. Micro looked at him, scared, but Q just nodded to him, licking his lips, "It's okay. Go." 

Micro ran from him, and Q turned, leveling the handgun over the edge and taking the sights, finger moving to the trigger. There was a man striding towards James from behind, and Q took the shot, compensating for the variables with nothing but _save James_ running through his head. Q took the shot, and James snapped around as the man fell, glancing up to Q and nodding slightly before going back to the fight of it. 

Q picked off a few more, his aim flawless so as not to waste a shot. 

James had given him the only gun they'd managed to keep between the two of them, and he refused to make the agent regret it. 

It wasn't long before a siren cut the air, followed by a voice amplified over a loudspeaker, _"This is the London Metropolitan Police, we have the exits covered. Come out unarmed, with your hands in the air."_

Q whirled, grabbing up his phone and dialling Jasmine with two jabs of his thumb. "The Met?" 

_"I sent them, boss. 006 has taken out the men that had infiltrated Battersea."_

"I might've known they weren't smart enough not to gloat." Q growled. "How many in total?" 

_"The information dump your worm has been putting me through is a bit excessive, sir. So far, one-hundred, but the number might go up."_

"Sorry about that, Jas. We know what this is all about?" 

_"Money,"_ Jasmine replied easily, _"from the looks of things, the hacker had heard of you, and wanted to make sure that you were taken out before you could stop them from holding the entire country for ransom."_

Q's footsteps faltered, and Micro walked into his back in the dark, unable to make out the sudden stop. 

_"Boss? This isn't your thoughtful silence; this is your alarming silence."_

"There is no one that should know about me." Q breathed. 

_"Q, it has your name on it, and you've led them right to you!"_ Eve yelled desperately into the phone. 

"Bastian Gabriel Kelly should be dead." Q dropped the phone as he heard the gun cock from the darkness of the small hall behind them. He turned, hands behind his back to keep Micro behind him as he faced the gun. "You use an alternating algorithm that changes your digital footprint on every bit of code you write so it looks like minions at MI6 have gotten incredibly smart; it's not just the genius kid with the thick glasses and a murderer as a bedfellow." 

"You seem to know an awful lot about me." Q remarked coolly. 

"Of course I do. You almost stopped me three months ago. I had to find out everything I could." 

"Three months..." Q murmured, trying to remember something past the night James came home to find Q's new tattoo, bearing one of his own, "You were the one behind Botswana?" Q wondered, taking a step towards the invisible voice. 

"You sent the same rabid dog after me then that you did this time, didn't you?" 

Q took a breath, "Alec may have fleas, but not rabies." 

There was a sad facsimile of a laugh, but Q could only feel Micro's trembling stop, a much larger, warmer hand settling over his forearm before sliding down to his wrist, keeping him steady as the gun was taken from where he'd tucked it into his belt. 

"If you weren't such a pain in the ass, or so loyal to your damn country, I'd think about keeping you. As it is, it's not worth the effort to break you of that silly attachment you have to--" Two shots cut the voice off with a horrifying gurgle, and James's heavy breathing was finally audible to Q, his warm presence at Q's side making the man melt, twisting and throwing his arms around James's shoulders. 

"I knew...when you weren't coming down...there had to be something I'd missed." James panted, wrapping a bruisingly-tight arm around Q and holding on for dear life.

"You caught it in time." Q whispered tearfully, his adrenaline rate making him feel like he was about to fall over or run a marathon. He reached blindly, finding Micro's nappy hair in the dark and pulling him into a hug when James finally let him go. "You okay?" Q couldn't see the boy nod so much as feel the movement under his hand, and he smiled as much as he could, clinging on to both James and the boy as they blindly walked through the hall. "Oh, bloody fuck! I dropped my phone in the dark..." 

"We'll get you a new one. And not give anyone the number until after we take time off." James stopped him from going back in gently, herding them out into the diffuse light as they made their way back, James gathering a pair called Twitch and Buzz on the way, nodding to Buzz silently, his features strong, but not unkind. 

"Thanks, man." Buzz muttered, holding a fist out for Bond to bump his against. 

James nodded to him, looping his arm around Q's waist and leading them down to the main floor, relinquishing the gun to Eve where she waited at the bottom of the stairs. "Target eliminated. I'm taking Q home." 

Q hesitated, "The--" 

Eve stepped forward, putting a hand on his arm, "Jasmine and I will take care of it, Q. These kids helped to save London: we'll thank them properly." 

Q looked at Hope; seeing the distrust plain in her eyes. He nodded to her, a signal that Eve was someone he trusted, and she frowned, but softened her stance, if only a little. 

Q crouched so that he and Micro were of a height, "Eve's gonna get you lot somewhere safe to sleep, and when we're all up tomorrow, we're bloody well demolishing a feast. And then...then we're gonna find a way to repay what you've done for us. You might've died; so take all the gratitude we give." 

The children had looked ready to argue, but as Q looked over them, they all nodded slowly, a softness edging into their features for one of their own. 

Q let James offer him a hand up, leaning into his side tiredly as he grinned and ruffled Micro's short, nappy hair. James supported Q out of the Abbey, into the waiting MI6 car, easing him into his arms as the driver pulled away for home, the lights of the city coming slowly but surely back on.

Getting into their building was an exercise in discipline, Q's consciousness almost dropping off where he stood. "Are you injured?" Q asked softly. 

"No, not really. Few bruises." 

James pulled him in, kissing him softly before pressing his lips to Q's forehead. James worked quickly, stripping them both and pulling them into bed rather than urging them into the shower. James's hands wouldn't stop moving over Q's skin, reassuring him by touch that Q really was whole. 

Q pulled James on top of him as they laid down, wrapping his long, thin arms around James's shoulders and keeping him there, wanting nothing more than James's weight to press him into the mattress. James breathed slowly and deeply, raising himself up on his arms just enough to kiss Q's racing, incoherent head quiet before settling down with his head pillowed on the curve of Q's collarbone. Q's fingers stroked up and down his back, easing him into unconsciousness. as Q's own breathing fell off that way. 

James woke to his phone ringing, finding himself tangled up in the long limbs of his lover, having rolled over in the night and pulled him over onto his chest. James groaned softly, unwilling to shift Q off of him in order to retrieve the phone. 

Pulling the blankets up around them, James slid further down, pressing soft kisses to Q's sleeping features and running his fingers gently through Q's mess of hair. Q hummed, his long fingers gripping onto James's biceps as his eyes flickered behind his lashes. 

"That's...your phone." Q sighed, groaning and rubbing his face against James's chest. "What time is it?" 

"Too bloody early yet." James replied easily, not even bothering to open his eyes again. He kissed Q, long enough that he could feel it in his toes, and Q moaned into his mouth, wrapping his arms around James's neck. "Fall back to sleep." 

"I can think of a much more pleasant way to wake ourselves than to just go back to sleep, James." 

"Mmm," James tipped him into a kiss, running his hands down Q's back, curving his hand under his arse and groaning at the lovely settle of Q's body against his. "I love you." 

"Shower?"

"Not yet." James urged, and Q's legs slid so that he was straddling James's hips, sitting up slightly to look down at him. Q's touch was barely there, a ghost of warmth as he traced over the bruises and scrapes of the fight, his features interminably sad. "I'm perfectly whole, Bastian." 

"You saved my life again last night." Q muttered, tracing scars now. 

"You saved mine first." James teased. "Bastian..." 

Q leaned over him, kissing his real name from James's lips, "I know. I trust you, James. You won't let anyone get to me. I trust you." 

James's hands were calloused from years of firing guns and using knives; running over the smooth skin of Q's back felt like there was the chance that he'd catch the softness of it, cause a tear. Q's breath ghosted over James's skin, the ruin of it so acute in James's mind that he felt wholly unworthy of the perfection of Q's. 

"You know what I love most about your body, James?" Q asked lightly, and James shot him a look. Q laughed softly, "Well, there is that, it is a very, very big point in your favour." Q teased, "But I was talking about these." Q's hot, pink tongue ran along James's chest, tracing scars that his fingers had found, "You've survived more pain--" 

"Q." 

"You've survived more pain," Q repeated, eyes large and stubborn about what he was saying as he silenced James with a finger to his lips, "than anyone should have ever had to go through. It's beautiful." 

"I'm covered in enough scars that the rule about identifying marks ought to be called into question." 

"Most people wouldn't notice them for admiring the rest of you." Q reposted, lowering his head to bite lightly into James's pectoral, moaning happily as James's hands seized him in response. 

"What brought your eye?" 

"You're more than a weapon or a beautiful piece of art, Bond." Q admonished. "It's that that irks me most on the honeypot missions. That they treat you like you're nothing more than a smirk, a trigger, and a--albeit admittedly gorgeous--cock." James snorted at the last, and Q smiled softly. "I guard the secret that you're so much more than that jealously, don't get me wrong." Pulling his fingers lightly through James's hair to get the blond fringe from his forehead, Q's hands rested low on his ribs, "But it makes me bloody angry that no one remembers we're more than we are." 

James raised himself up, scooping Q into his arms and switching their positions, James fit comfortably between Q's thighs as he propped himself up on his elbows, his chin on his knuckles. "I would think about it for you, Q. Just ask." 

Q's eyes widened minutely, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips as his legs shifted around James, wrapping around his waist. "I couldn't, James. I'd never ask that of you." 

"Why?" James asked as if he couldn't fathom why Q couldn't ask him to consider leaving MI6. 

"Because it's a part of you. You love your job, and I will never take something you love from you. Not if I can help it." 

James framed Q's face with a large, blunt hand, kissing him silent with an intensity that felt like it could take them both apart, only to scatter the pieces in a mess that could never be sorted into two separate men. "I love you more than the job, Q." 

"I wouldn't stay without you." Q replied, "And what the bloody hell would the world do without at least one of us on the job?" 

Laughing, James dropped his head to the crook of Q's neck, nipping playfully before sucking a mark into the skin, feeling a possessive burn to keep Q's laugh, his body, his heart safe under the cover James's unkillable body could provide him.


	7. Gone, Gone, Gone

The opening of the James Kelly Foundation for Runaways was not attended by either of the men with their names on the ownership. 

Q was standing in the centre of his bullpen, conducting an orchestra of destruction, James's laughing voice trying to rattle him enough to laugh over the comms, in front of the minions. 

The Swarm was playing tag with each other, chirping merrily, and James and Q grinned, a half a world away from each other as Q received a photo text. 

"They look happy." 

_"Micro doesn't look so micro, Q."_ James commented idly. 

"No, he doesn't, does he? Twitch is filling out nicely." 

_"You would too if I threatened to use you as a javelin."_ James muttered sardonically. 

Q bit back the laugh, refusing to meet Jasmine's eye. "Yes, well, take the next left and bring home a bottle of red, will you? I rather feel like cooking." 

_"Q, with a proposition like that, I may just break the land-speed records to get back to you."_

"See that you do," Q purred, "I'll be waiting."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, my freaky darlings: I have several more ideas for this 'verse, but I'd rather like to know if you want to read it or if you're sick of it. Let me know, please and thank you, and I hope you're still enjoying. Sorry if you're not.


End file.
